


To Look for America (Songfic)- Simon and Garfunkel

by sachavity



Category: Chess - Rice/Ulvaeus/Andersson
Genre: I just love them, M/M, PLEASE LISTEN TO THIS SONG IT FITS THEM SO WELL, also this song is really good, anatoly is a gay bastard, freddie is a bicon, um. swearing?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:21:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25979668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sachavity/pseuds/sachavity
Summary: A short songfic of Anatoly moving to America to be with Freddie, set to America by Simon and Garfunkel.
Relationships: Anatoly Sergievsky/Frederick Trumper
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	To Look for America (Songfic)- Simon and Garfunkel

**Author's Note:**

> the song just fits them so well!! this is also my first fanfiction so please be nice ;v;  
> i also have some art drawn for this, posted on my tumblr (blog name is sachavity)

_Let us be lovers, we'll marry our fortunes together  
I've got some real estate here in my bag  
So we bought a pack of cigarettes and Mrs. Wagner's pies  
And we walked off to look for America_

As Anatoly made his way through the airport to the baggage claim area, he couldn’t help but feel like he was stuck in a very confusing, very crowded labyrinth. His carry-on was light, but each step was heavy. The flight from the Soviet Union to the United States had taken 12 hours, and he was sufficiently exhausted from the trip. Freddie was supposed to be waiting for him by the luggage, but he was having a difficult time trying to figure out _where the damn thing is_. Security was minimal, yet he felt watched at every step. _It’s not this confusing back home,_ Anatoly thought, before he remembered that he could hardly call Russia home anymore.

As he approached the baggage claim, he saw a familiar head of wavy blonde hair with a smiling face greeting him. He quickened his pace and grabbed Freddie tightly, a grin breaking out as the familiar voice whispered his name. The two pulled apart and stared at each other for a moment. 

“I can’t believe you moved across the world because you couldn’t get enough of me,” Freddie teased. He moved Anatoly’s dark hair out of his face and gave him a light flick on the nose, in one fluid motion. 

Anatoly rolled his eyes. “As if you didn’t beg me to come,” he retorted, and they both broke out in light laughter. 

They began walking through the airport, and Anatoly’s weariness, which had momentarily evaporated from the excitement of holding Freddie in his arms, finally returned. He yawned, and Freddie turned to look at him, finally realizing how exhausting the day must have been for him.

“Come here,” he nudged, pointing towards an airport store with junk food and headphones cluttering its window display. Anatoly took a moment to process what Freddie was saying, but by that time the other man had already begun dragging him into the store.

“I don’t really want anything,” Anatoly protested as Freddie began inspecting every snack on the shelf. “No, seriously- no, not even Oreos- Freddie, I promise you I’m not hungry.” Freddie reluctantly stopped searching, seeming slightly dissatisfied, and grabbed a pack of gum and some cigarettes. 

“They’re for me,” he grumbled, as Anatoly began to protest. 

“I just want to get to the apartment already. I’ll eat there,” Anatoly murmured, interrupted by another yawn.

“Well, you better wake up a little. We still have a bus ride to get through, and it’s day outside anyway.” Freddie walked out of the store with a brisk pace as Anatoly quickly blurted out “I’m jetlagged!” as he ran to catch up.

_Cathy, I said as we boarded a Greyhound in Pittsburgh  
Michigan seems like a dream to me now  
It took me four days to hitchhike from Saginaw  
I've gone to look for America_

As Anatoly and Freddie stepped out of the airport, a heavy flood of rain greeted them just inches past the door. They huddled by the side of the exit, hiding from the rain shower as much as possible. The scene was deserted, save for a few stragglers, and the air smelled earthy and damp.

“Damn it, you didn’t tell me it was raining. I would’ve gotten an umbrella at that store,” Anatoly sighed but Freddie was staring intently at the bus schedule and didn’t seem to hear him.

“FUCK!” Freddie suddenly cursed, spinning on his heels right back into the rain. He grabbed Anatoly by the arm and began bolting off down the sidewalk, dragging his bewildered partner behind him. “We’re running late!” he yelled back as Anatoly forced his tired legs to run, ignoring the bite of the cool air and the pattering of the rain as it landed on his head. They turned two corners, Freddie letting out the occasional “shit!” as he whipped out a soaked map at every block.

They arrived right as the bus pulled into the station, both winded and gasping for air. 

“Did you have to jerk my arm like that?” Anatoly snapped at Freddie as his bushy hair, now dripping, fell into his face. He turned around, looking for a refuge from the enduring rainfall but he saw no cover. 

“We would’ve been late,” Freddie retorted, gesturing wildly towards the Greyhound in front of them. “You can be upset with me _after_ we board.” Freddie grabbed two crinkled tickets out from his pocket and the pair walked to the bus doors, ignoring the soft crunch of soggy leaves beneath their feet.

The bus was freezing beneath wet clothes, and Anatoly wished desperately that he had packed his sweater in his carry-on instead of his luggage. Freddie gave a shudder as well, and pulled his knees up to his chest, sitting awkwardly in his seat.

 _Put your legs down,_ Anatoly felt like saying, but what was the point, really? Back home, Anatoly was expected to act with the utmost propriety, a perfect model of decorum and tranquility. Back home he was the face of chess, the ideal champion, stuck doing whatever Molokov told him to for fear he would disgrace the Soviet Union. He was tired of being watched and tired of always being on guard. He was jealous of how easy it was for Freddie to act the way he did. While he was certainly held to a similar esteem within the American chess world, he never seemed to conform under the pressure of publicity the same way. Anatoly sighed and drew his knees into his chest as well, feeling the immediate relief of body heat against the bracing air.  
Anatoly stared out of the tinted windows of the bus as they began moving, the blur of autumn trees fading into a stunning whirl of color. Being here hardly felt real. Even more than being here, Anatoly could hardly believe it was now his home. He was an American. Was he feeling relief, or fear? Anatoly couldn’t tell. He ignored the heavy feeling in his chest and turned away from the window.

_Laughing on the bus, playing games with the faces  
She said the man in the gabardine suit was a spy  
I said, be careful, his bowtie is really a camera_

The chattering of strangers all around them filled the silence, and Anatoly let his mind wander. He took to studying the people around him. There was a very grouchy couple across from them, both with very blonde hair and very sour expressions. On Freddie’s left there was a kid wearing three different shades of green, sitting across from a very stern older woman who kept glancing up to keep an eye on him but who never said anything. After looking over the entirety of the bus multiple times, only one man truly caught Anatoly’s eye. He was very tall, wearing a brimmed hat and a trench coat, and he sat reading a newspaper in the corner of the bus. 

“Hey. Psst,” he whispered into Freddie’s ear. He pointed silently towards the man, giving a slight smile. 

“Think he’s a spy?” he joked, raising an eyebrow and making his best detective face. 

“Yeah, of course. He’s got a little hole in his newspaper, and a tiny camera in his coat pocket,” Freddie snarked. “You’re being paranoid.”

“I know he’s not really a spy. Play along, dumbass.” Anatoly rolled his eyes and shoved his shoulder lightly into Freddie’s.

“Alright, fine. He’s got a little microphone taped to his sleeve, and whenever he goes to scratch his head- yeah, see, like that- he’s sending back reports on us.” The two laughed, but Anatoly caught a sense of bitterness in Freddie’s tone. 

“So which side do you think he’s spying for? Is he a devious Soviet or a dirty American?”

“Pfft. American, obviously. Just think how long your plane ride was. Do you really think they care that much about you to follow you all the way here?” Freddie was scoffing, but Anatoly couldn’t think of a response. He wasn’t sure, and he suddenly felt less safe.

The bus pulled into its stop, and Anatoly collected his bags and followed Freddie off. They walked through the station over to the nearest payphone, and Freddie signaled for Anatoly to stay silent for a moment. _I’m calling a cab,_ he mouthed as he dialed the number. 

Anatoly nodded and took a seat on a nearby bench. Freddie waited a moment before coming over to join him. 

_Toss me a cigarette, I think there's one in my raincoat  
We smoked the last one an hour ago  
So I looked at the scenery  
She read her magazine  
And the moon rose over an open field_

The bench was cold from the autumn chill, and Anatoly felt a strange palpable tension hanging between them. 

“Got a cigarette?” he asked, looking down at the orange leaves below his feet as Freddie rifled through his pocket. 

“The damn rain soaked through them all.” Freddie tossed the pack to the ground in disgust, and Anatoly felt a twinge of annoyance at the other’s tone.

“You didn’t have to just toss it on the floor. There’s a garbage right the-”

“You’re going to lecture me about littering? Really, Anatoly?”

The two made eye contact, both frustrated, tired, and overwhelmed from the bus ride and the long drive still ahead. Anatoly looked away first. He hated fighting with Freddie, but he had sensed he was upset about something, and it was going to come out at some point. He stared in silence at the tree hanging over them, vibrant with hues of orange, red, and brown- seemingly out of place with the stress radiating off of them both. 

“Listen, I didn’t mean to get upset. I’m sorry I- I didn’t have to- I don’t-” Freddie kept cutting himself off, seemingly unsure what exactly he wanted to say. He paused for a moment, looking around, before continuing again. “I haven’t lived with anyone since Florence, and we were so combative, over the stupidest shit, too. And now you’re just fucking… just fucking leaving Russia to live with me, and the apartment is already small, and you just divorced, and how am I supposed to expect it to turn out any different this time?” He was talking fast now, snapping each word and getting angrier. 

He continued, more rapid now. “There’s no reason for it to be any different this time. The circumstances are more complicated, we have Molokov breathing down our necks, everyone’s fucking pissed that you’re defecting in the first place and most of them don’t even know about us. How can we expect this to turn out okay?” Freddie twitched as he said this, his whole body tense and his shoes tapping rapidly against the damp earth beneath them.

Anatoly felt his breath catch in his throat. Freddie was right, of course. Anatoly’s blind optimism was foolish, but he couldn’t help but feel annoyed.

“You’re dooming this from the start, Freddie. I wouldn’t have moved in the first place and disrupted _my entire life,_ mind you, if I had the same attitude you have. Or is it easier to commit when you’re not the one leaving your wife and home behind?”

Freddie cringed at these words. “This isn’t easy for me either! I’m committing because I love you, but let’s be fucking realistic for a second, okay? I loved Florence, and my parents loved each other, but none of that seems to matter after the fact. Everything I’ve ever seen or been through has taught me that relationships don’t last, and you’re just- just- expecting me to be okay on blind faith alone. Commitment doesn’t come easy for me, you know that, but you’re expecting me to act like none of this isn’t stressing me out, or I’m not worried, or I’m not fucking… fucking scared, okay?”

Anatoly didn’t respond. There were a million things he thought about saying: _is this just another mistake to you? Why bother trying if you’re so sure it’s going to fail? Why are you saying this to me now, of all times?_ but instead he stayed silent.

“I’m not saying I regret anything, Anatoly, and I definitely don’t regret this. We both know this isn’t easy. I just need to adjust. This is hard for me, too.”

Anatoly looked down at his hands, clenched tightly around one another. He felt something warm brush his side and looked up to see Freddie had scooted over right beside him. Freddie put a hand gingerly on Anatoly’s leg, palm open for Anatoly to hold if he so chose. Anatoly obliged, tilting his head onto Freddie’s shoulder and staring at the road ahead of them. 

“I know. Just don’t give up on us yet. I know you like to get ahead of yourself, but-” Freddie started chuckling as Anatoly said this “-I love you. We can be different.”

Anatoly felt Freddie’s body relax, tension seeming to melt out of him at these words, “I love you, too. Even if you are a commie bastard,” Freddie added at the end, laughing and giving Anatoly a tiny poke with his elbow. Anatoly gave a slight smile as the two stared at the darkening sky and waited for the taxi to pull up to the curb. 

_Cathy, I'm lost, I said though I knew she was sleeping  
And I'm empty and aching and I don't know why  
Counting the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike_

The car ride was long, but Anatoly hardly felt it. He stared at the cars speeding past them- why were they going so slow?- and thought about the people riding inside. Were they hurting as much as he was? Were they leaving everything behind, too? Or were they on their way home from work, ready to greet their wife after a busy day and not spend hours after wondering _why they couldn’t love her back?_ Red, white, silver, black… more and more cars chasing the curve in the highway up ahead, all of them going _somewhere_ to do _something_ and Anatoly would never see them again. 

He thought about Svetlana, and their car back home- a shiny ZIL-114 they had saved for and bought together when they first married- and realized it wasn’t even theirs anymore. It was only Svetlana’s now, or maybe she’d sold it already and it belonged to neither of them. A stranger’s car, filled with his memories and his broken old chess pieces, once scattered across the back, having been thrown carelessly in acts of celebration or defeat, now never to be picked up again. Maybe they had been thrown out- he had no way of knowing, and he never would. 

His chest ached, and he gripped Freddie’s hand tightly. He was sound asleep, and Anatoly thought about waking him up, but Freddie had been so tired beforehand Anatoly decided against it. He squinched his eyes tightly, forcing tears and feelings back with all his force. Anatoly held that pose for a moment- eyes shut tight as possible, monitoring his breathing in and out slowly and deliberately- until the intense feelings of panic and isolation that had begun to gnaw at him slowly faded. 

“I don’t know why it’s hurting so much,” Anatoly muttered under his breath. He glanced sideways, staring at Freddie’s sleeping form slouched back in his seat, half-turned towards Anatoly and with one arm resting beside the window.

 _“I didn’t even love her”_ Anatoly spat, bitterness seeping into his tone. He saw the taxi driver turn slightly at the sound, and he dropped his voice again. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

The words hung heavy in the air, and Anatoly felt the oxygen compress in his chest as they left his mouth. He stared down at his hand for a moment- clenched tightly over Freddie’s- and moved his body closer.

“Here- scoot” he murmured, nudging Freddie into a more comfortable position resting against the window. Freddie’s eyes fluttered open, half-asleep but aware enough to oblige and readjust his position. Anatoly smiled softly and relaxed his body into the curves of Freddie’s figure. He heard a breath escape Freddie’s mouth, very quietly, as he slipped back into sleep contently. The sides of Anatoly’s lips peaked up and he let his eyes start to close too. 

_At least I have you._

_They've all come to look for America_  
_All come to look for America_  
_All come to look for America_


End file.
